


Look Out, Sunshine

by seashadows



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Don't copy to another site, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Other, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), Sunburn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:35:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21799222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seashadows/pseuds/seashadows
Summary: “What?” Crowley stuck his gardening spade upright in the soil and looked up. “Something wrong?”“Something wrong?” Aziraphale echoed. “You’re burnt to a crisp, darling!”Despite the fact that he's a demon, Crowley sunburns like everyone else with his coloring. At least he has Aziraphale to help him.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 41
Kudos: 279





	Look Out, Sunshine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [asideofourown](https://archiveofourown.org/users/asideofourown/gifts).



> For asideofourown, who won one of the third-place spots in my follower giveaway on Tumblr. 
> 
> The title is from the Fratellis song of the same name.

Crowley had been out gardening for an _awfully_ long time.

Not that Aziraphale’s sense of time was the best, of course. When one was over 6000 years old, one’s perception of time became a bit skewed. In addition, he was reading, and that always mucked about with his ability to tell what time it was. But the sun rose and set beautifully in the South Downs, and by the lengthening of the afternoon sun’s rays across the kitchen, Aziraphale could tell that it was nearly teatime. Well past when Crowley ought to have returned

He set down his copy of _The Epic of Gilgamesh_ , which was always fun to revisit in different translations, and ventured out to the back door. “Crowley?” he called. “Crowley, dear, oughtn’t you come in? The plants can wait to be shouted at, I’m sure.”

“I’m not finished weeding,” Crowley shouted back.

Aziraphale mentally translated that to _I’m not quite finished venting my frustrations on the poor weeds_ and rolled his eyes. “I’m sure you’re not,” he said. “Humor me and come inside anyway, if you please.” He picked his way between Crowley’s beautifully-tended beds, pausing for a moment to admire the beautiful growth of his imported raspberry plants, and followed the sound of garden tools pushing into dirt to a spot beyond the massive apple tree. “Crowley, this is getting ridiculous. I’m not saying you can’t have your hobbies, but to spend hours doing – oh, Crowley!”

“What?” Crowley stuck his gardening spade upright in the soil and looked up. “Something wrong?”

“Something wrong?” Aziraphale echoed. “You’re burnt to a crisp, darling!”

“Can’t be,” Crowley said. “I’m wearing a hat. See?”

He was indeed wearing one, a tall, pointed witches’ hat that he’d probably gotten off Miss Device, but the tip of his nose was still pink, and as for the rest of his exposed skin – well, Aziraphale winced just looking at it. His usual freckles were nearly invisible, obliterated as they were by a roiling red burn. “Crowley,” he said, “do me the courtesy of looking at your arms, please. Then you’ll have a better of idea of what’s wrong.”

Crowley did so, and slowly looked up at Aziraphale. “Oh, um.” He swallowed. “Oops. Not good.”

“This is far worse than oops,” Aziraphale said dryly. “Come inside with me, dear. It’s going to hurt like the dickens in a few minutes, now that you’re aware of it. I’m more equipped to deal with a burn indoors than outdoors.”

Crowley stood up and came with him, rubbing at his arms as if he’d only just realized he had them. “How can I sunburn?” he complained as Aziraphale led him inside and sat him down on his favorite living-room chair. “I’m a demon! That doesn’t make any sense!”

“You’re also a redhead,” Aziraphale said, and miracled over a tube of aloe gel that he kept in the refrigerator. It was typically reserved for those rare times when he tried to cook, but he was doubly glad for it now. “What in the world were you thinking, wearing a sleeveless shirt to garden? You should have known better.”

“Shouldn’t’ve known better,” said Crowley petulantly. “The plants defy me, not the sun.”

“Perhaps skin that’s used to being indoors or covered is more prone to being defied by the sun,” said Aziraphale, keeping his tone mild as he warmed some aloe gel between his palms. “And stop scratching at that, please.”

Crowley growled and slapped at his forearm. “It’ssss itchy!”

Aziraphale took his wrist and began to spread the gel across the burned skin, moving up from his forearm to his upper arm, shoulders, and collarbone. Crowley hissed. “Yes, I know it hurts, I’m sorry. Really, my dear, this will be far easier if you keep still.” He tutted at the dry heat radiating off Crowley’s flesh. “Oh, you’re going to peel like a snake when –“ He remembered whom he was speaking to just a moment too late, and felt his face flush. “Sorry, that was a bad simile.”

“Might turn into a ssssnake and peel it off that way,” Crowley grumbled. “It’ll be easier. Whose bright idea was it, inventing sunburn? We don’t bloody photosynthesize.”

“I’m sure She had Her reasons,” said Aziraphale, and moved so that he could lave Crowley’s left side with gel. “My goodness, the back of your neck is even worse,” he said as he applied the aloe with long strokes of his fingers. “That’s it, I’m putting my foot down. You have a choice: two hours of gardening at a time, or doing it after dark, at least during the summer.”

“Don’t tell me how to deal with my plantsss – _ow!_ ” Crowley cut himself off with a yelp as Aziraphale rubbed the gel into the nape of his neck, a tender strip of pink skin where his hairline ended. Despite a hint of schadenfreude, Aziraphale couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. “Bloody buggering ssson of _Chrisssst_!”

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. “Now, now, you know that the Gospels are inconclusive about all aspects of that sentence, and the personages mentioned in it,” he said, and gave Crowley’s neck a light pat with his fingertips before moving on to his back. “Never mind that we knew the person in question. Hold still, darling.” He moved the straps of his shirt aside and shook his head when he saw the contrast between pale skin and red burn. “Goodness, how did you not feel this before?”

Crowley slouched forward, exposing his back as his head drooped. “The weeds were disappointing me,” he said into his lap. “Maybe that overrode it. Ow, careful!”

“I’m very sorry.” Aziraphale gently kissed the most prominent knob of his spine and wiped the aloe gel off his lips. It didn’t taste very pleasant. “Poor darling, I’m afraid it’s hitting you rather hard now, isn’t it? You’ll be tender for a few days.”

“That settles it,” Crowley said. “I’m officially turning into a snake.”

“That’s my wily old serpent.” Aziraphale gave Crowley’s shoulders a last coat of gel and wiped his hands with his handkerchief. “But wouldn’t you like to have a cool drink before you make that decision? I think if I look in the refrigerator, I’ll find a pitcher of lemonade just to your tastes.”

Crowley grumbled something unintelligible, but nodded. That was acquiescence enough for Aziraphale to go fetch the drink, humming all the while.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm godihatethisfreakingcat on Tumblr. :)


End file.
